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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876497">Dangerous World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pine_storm_season/pseuds/pine_storm_season'>pine_storm_season</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rust (Video Game), SBI Rust - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Trauma, also this is probably only gonna be loosely true to canon, but hey i just really like found family skfjfjfjdhkfhd, i feel like this deserves that tag at this point skdkdjfkdjd, i have sbi rust brainrot so i wrote this lmao</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:20:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pine_storm_season/pseuds/pine_storm_season</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>wilbur was alone, and he was used to it. he'd been on his own for years now. and then he wasn't alone anymore.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>222</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Not So Alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>they're about ten and seven respectively when they meet, just for reference</p>
<p>warnings: one of them has a minor trauma reaction, but that's pretty much it</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Nine years ago </em>
</p>
<p>Wilbur frowned. He was certain that he had had enough food to last him the week, but sometime between when he went to sleep and when he woke up, a can of tuna and three carrots had gone missing.</p>
<p><em>A raccoon, maybe?</em> he wondered. But a raccoon would take something a little easier to get at than something encased in a thin layer of metal, and Wilbur doubted it would take three carrots and not, say, the chicken wrapped in cloth, tucked in the pocket of his food bag.</p>
<p>Maybe there was another kid around. It had been a while since that had happened, and although Wilbur refused to be lonely, part of him filled with excitement at the thought of having someone to talk to.</p>
<p>“Hello?” he called quietly, drifting slightly away from his camp into the woods. “Is anyone there?”</p>
<p>No response, although, as Wilbur remembered how skittish the last kid had been, he figured he should maybe be a little more reassuring.</p>
<p>“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he added. He smiled out at the woods in an attempt to be reassuring. “I'll get you some food, okay?”</p>
<p>Wilbur thought he could sense eyes on him. He returned back to his camp, pulling the chicken he had out and holding it up.</p>
<p>“Here, here’s the chicken I have. You can have some, too.” He tore off a piece and put it in his mouth to show it wasn’t poisoned. “See? It's safe.”</p>
<p>It was a few moments before anything happened, and then Wilbur heard rustling in the tree above him. He looked up, and there was a small boy clinging up in the branches, a smudge of dirt on his face and fierce steel in his eyes as he stared down at Wilbur.</p>
<p>He smiled at the boy, holding up the chicken. “Hello,” he said. “Do you want some?”</p>
<p>After a beat, the boy nodded. He slithered down the tree, landing with a thump in front of Wilbur, who noticed his missing food tucked into a flimsy cloth pouch around the boy’s waist.</p>
<p>He held the chicken out to the boy, who took it after a moment of consideration.</p>
<p>“I can have it?” he said warily.</p>
<p>Wilbur nodded. “You can have it. You look hungry.”</p>
<p>The boy stood there for another second, then wolfed it down as if he was afraid Wilbur was going to change his mind and take it from him.</p>
<p>“What’s your name?” Wilbur asked him.</p>
<p>“’M Tommy,” he said, shaking his head back and forth to get the hair out of his face. He watched Wilbur with a wary gaze even while he did that, distrust clear on his face.</p>
<p>“I’m Wilbur,” Wilbur said, smiling at him.</p>
<p>“Stop doin’ that. You’re freaking me out. Adults only do that when they want something.”</p>
<p>Wilbur dropped the smile, taking a few steps back to his camp. “Do you want some water? I have a working filter and everything, so it's safe.”</p>
<p>Tommy tilted his head slightly to the side as he thought, then nodded. “You drink some first,” he insisted.</p>
<p>“Alright,” Wilbur said, kneeling down next to the bag he kept the water things in. He pulled out a scuffed-up plastic bottle of water, taking a gulp of it before handing it to Tommy, who immediately drank half the bottle before looking at him sheepishly.</p>
<p>Wilbur giggled. “I take it you were thirsty?”</p>
<p>Tommy scowled. “Shut up.”</p>
<p>“Do you have a camp?”</p>
<p>“No. I move around and steal things. I'm usually not caught.”</p>
<p>“Usually?”</p>
<p>Tommy narrowed his eyes and stared at Wilbur like it was a challenge instead of mild concern. “Usually.”</p>
<p>“Do you have any food or anything?” Wilbur asked him.</p>
<p>Tommy shook his head. “Only the stuff I stole from you. An’ I'm not givin’ it back, so don’t ask. It's mine now.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t going to ask for it back,” Wilbur said. “I can get more.”</p>
<p>Curiosity and wariness fought for control of Tommy’s expression. Curiosity won.</p>
<p>“Where?”</p>
<p>“Do you know where the bandit camp is? That’s where I get most of my food,” Wilbur said.</p>
<p>The slightly feral child stared up at him. “I eat plants. Like that.” He pointed at a mushroom growing near the base of a tree. “The brown ones don’t make you sick, and there’s lots of them.”</p>
<p><em>I knew that already, </em>Wilbur considered saying. “Thank you, that’s very helpful,” he said instead.</p>
<p>Tommy looked proud for a moment before wariness stole back over his face.</p>
<p>“I assume you don't have a family?”</p>
<p>Tommy shook his head. “Probably did at some point, but I don't ‘member them. Probably left me or something, I dunno. But they're gone.”</p>
<p>“Mine died,” Wilbur said.</p>
<p>Tommy winced. For the first time since Wilbur had met him, Tommy seemed actually serious. “Oh.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Wilbur said.</p>
<p>They were both quiet for another moment.</p>
<p>“D’you have more food?” Tommy asked him, reaching out and tugging at his sleeve. “Give. I'm hungry.”</p>
<p>Wilbur snorted. “Yes, I have more food,” he said, pushing Tommy away as he went digging through his food bag for something else for the younger boy to eat. He found a slightly bruised apple and gave it to Tommy, whose face lit up as he grabbed it.</p>
<p>“Mine,” Tommy said fiercely, nodding at Wilbur. “’S mine.”</p>
<p>“Have you died before?” Wilbur asked.</p>
<p>Tommy glared at him. “O’ course I have,” he said. “’S why I don't have a proper camp, I just stick ‘round my respawn point mostly. Otherwise people break my anchor and steal my stuff while I’m comin’ back.”</p>
<p>“If you stay here, you can have a proper camp,” Wilbur said without thinking. Was he really just <em>adopting</em> this ragged, fierce kid who’d made his presence known by <em>stealing food?</em> If his common sense had kicked in a little bit sooner, he probably wouldn’t have.</p>
<p>But Tommy’s face lit up, and Wilbur couldn’t bear to shatter the fragile hope on the kid’s face.</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>Wilbur sighed. “Really.”</p>
<p>Tommy threw himself at Wilbur, hugging him tightly. Wilbur winced as the half-eaten apple smacked into his ear, still clutched tightly in Tommy’s hand and apparently not taken into account when Tommy went to hug him.</p>
<p>Wilbur cautiously wrapped his arms around the boy, hugging him back after a moment. It had been too long since someone had done that.</p>
<p>Tommy wriggled free after a few moments, grinning widely as he raced around Wilbur's—and, he supposed, now Tommy’s—camp. He crashed into one of the walls of the messy shelter Wilbur had made from the rain, knocking out down, and he immediately stopped. Tommy looked subdued, trying it put it back together and avoiding Wilbur’s gaze.</p>
<p>“I'll get it,” Wilbur said, smiling gently at him. “You go refill our water, ‘kay?”</p>
<p>Tommy nodded, grabbing the bottles and filter and heading off into the woods in the direction of the river.</p>
<p>Wilbur picked up the sticks and tarp and twine, remaking his shelter, and wondered if he’d just made a mistake.</p>
<p>//</p>
<p>Tommy had grown quiet as night approached, dusky blue creeping across the sky and the clouds stained deep orange. He stuck close by Wilbur’s side, eyeing the shadowy woods and fidgeting with the holes in his red coat, unzipping and re-zipping the bottom part of the coat.</p>
<p>Wilbur wondered what he was worried about, but decided to let Tommy be unless something happened. The night could be scary, helicopters whirring by overhead and gunshots in the distance, and Tommy looked seven at best. A few years younger than Wilbur, who disliked how protective he had instinctively gotten of the chaotic kid.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until the moon was clear overhead and their fire was dying down that Wilbur felt a smaller hand slip into his own. He looked over, and Tommy was at his side, holding his hand and staring up at him with big eyes.</p>
<p>“Where ‘m I gonna sleep?” he asked quietly. “I don’ have a sleeping bag or anything.”</p>
<p>Wilbur hesitated, considering. “You can share mine,” he said.</p>
<p>Tommy’s face was split by a sudden relieved grin. He leaned into Wilbur and then raced across their camp to Wilbur’s sleeping bag, underneath the remade shelter. He didn’t get in it, though, just sitting curled up in the corner of the shelter and waiting.</p>
<p>Wilbur snorted, crossing the camp and joining Tommy in the corner. He pulled open the sleeping bag, getting in it and beckoning Tommy closer.</p>
<p>Tommy scrambled over, pressing himself against Wilbur and resting his head on Wilbur’s shoulder as he curled up next to him and closed his eyes.</p>
<p>//</p>
<p>Two weeks later, there was no question of if Tommy staying was permanent or not. The kid had wormed his way into Wilbur’s heart without waiting for permission, and if anyone hurt him Wilbur was fairly sure he <em>would</em> consider murder.</p>
<p>Hell, he already wanted to murder whoever poisoned Tommy. He hadn’t stopped wanting Wilbur to prove food and water were safe, and although Wilbur hadn’t asked and Tommy hadn’t answered, it was fairly obvious that someone had caused that fear in Tommy. And Wilbur wanted to kill them for it.</p>
<p>“How good are you with weapons, Tommy?” he asked, keeping his voice casual.</p>
<p>Tommy tilted his head, considering. “’M pretty good,” he said, grabbing a stick from the ground and swinging it around. “I can defend myself.”</p>
<p>Wilbur struggled to avoid laughing. Tommy would see it as an insult.</p>
<p>“I meant, like, knives and stuff,” he said.</p>
<p>Tommy’s eyes got big. “You have <em>knives?” </em></p>
<p>Wilbur reached into the right pocket of his jacket, pulling out a knife that unfolded from a small wooden rectangle to reveal a sharp, albeit scratched and dirty, blade about the length of Wilbur’s hand.</p>
<p>He didn't miss how Tommy twitched back when he unfolded the blade, so he folded it back into a rectangle.</p>
<p>“I got it from the bandit camp,” he said, putting it back in his pocket. “A few months ago, prob’ly. I can get you one, too, if you want.”</p>
<p>Tommy nodded. “I do want. I wanna be able to defend myself if I need to!”</p>
<p>Wilbur grinned. He offered a hand to pull Tommy to his feet, the boy now rocking up and down on his heels in excitement. Swinging an empty bag over his shoulder and grabbing their pouch of scrap, he grabbed Tommy’s hand.</p>
<p>Tommy grinned up at him, other hand fluttering around in excitement. Wilbur returned the grin.</p>
<p>“Let’s go,” he said, starting off in the direction of the bandit camp. Tommy let go of his hand and raced ahead, darting through the trees and running in circles.</p>
<p>Wilbur stifled a laugh at Tommy’s antics. He was just so full of <em>energy</em>.</p>
<p>“C’monnnn,” Tommy whined, grabbing Wilbur’s hand again to drag him along. “You’re not goin’ fast enough!”</p>
<p>Tommy let out a startled laugh as Wilbur broke into a sprint, running after him and giggling.</p>
<p>“This fast enough for you?” he teased, grinning.</p>
<p>“Meanie!” Tommy called, grinning.</p>
<p>//</p>
<p>They stumbled into the bandit camp, both out of breath but grinning. The sentries gave them amused looks, and Wilbur waved hello.</p>
<p>Tommy stuck close to Wilbur, gazing around with wonder. Wilbur hadn’t brought him last time, claiming it’d be better if Tommy got more firewood and gathered plants in the meantime, and he was mesmerized by how much stuff there was.</p>
<p>A pair of men walked by, guns slung across their backs, and Wilbur tugged Tommy to the side to give them a wide berth. He’d explained before they came that the bandit camp was a peaceful zone, and killing wasn’t allowed, but Tommy didn't miss the hint of fear on Wilbur’s face.</p>
<p>“Don't fall in the water,” Tommy teased, trying to cheer him up, and Wilbur’s mouth twitched up in a smile.</p>
<p>“Been there, done that,” he said, and Tommy giggled.</p>
<p>“Dummy,” he said, grinning.</p>
<p> Wilbur gently shoved him. “Hey!” he exclaimed in mock-anger.</p>
<p>Tommy giggled again, poking Wilbur’s arm. “Whatcha gonna do, shove me in? Meanie!”</p>
<p>Wilbur snorted, relaxing again as the two men with guns left the camp.</p>
<p>Tommy followed him through the winding wooden paths, making a note of the way they came. He noticed that Wilbur waited until a trio of adults left the food-seller before approaching, even though there was space on the platform for both groups.</p>
<p>“This is Tommy,” Wilbur said by way of greeting.</p>
<p>Tommy waved at the woman, grinning at her. “Hello!” he said.</p>
<p>She smiled at him. “Hello, Tommy.”</p>
<p>Wilbur fiddled with the pouch of scrap, pulling out some.</p>
<p>“We need more food,” he said.</p>
<p>Tommy turned, letting the conversation fade into the background as he looked around the bandit camp. Scraggly trees poked out of the shallow, murky water, and a bird flew overhead. He wasn’t used to this many people, edging back towards Wilbur as someone with their face mostly covered gave him a harsh look.</p>
<p>A woman with a hard expression and a burn scar on the left side of her face came up, pulling out some scrap to buy food with. Tommy tugged at Wilbur’s sleeve to get his attention, and Wilbur startled when he saw the newcomer, accidentally dropping the pouch of scrap.</p>
<p>Tommy helped him pick up the pieces, putting them in the scratchy pouch and then taking the food they’d bought while Wilbur reattached the pouch to his waist.</p>
<p>He gave the woman a wide berth, pulling Tommy along with him, and curiosity pricked at the back of Tommy’s mind. He didn’t ask, though, simply allowing Wilbur to pull him along to another person with things to sell.</p>
<p>“Tommy needs a knife,” Wilbur said, and this time Tommy stayed paying attention. “Preferably a folding one, but as long as it’s got a sheath, a solid one works too.”</p>
<p>Tommy eyed the weapons the man had on display, only half in wonder. The man handed Wilbur a dark-handled folding knife, and Wilbur exchanged it for scrap.</p>
<p>Wilbur handed it to Tommy, nodding at the man as they walked away.</p>
<p>Tommy flicked it back and forth, mesmerized, Wilbur’s arm around his shoulders the only reason he didn't accidentally walk into water.</p>
<p>When Wilbur was talking with someone about getting cloth for a sleeping bag for Tommy, Tommy wandered away a little bit, drifting down a path between two buildings. There was a small calico cat sitting on a box at the end of the path, cleaning itself.</p>
<p>“Hey, kitty,” Tommy called softly, crouching down. The cat paused, watching him with pale yellow eyes.</p>
<p>He slowly moved towards it, holding out a hand for it to sniff. The cat didn’t move, simply watching him with a disinterested gaze.</p>
<p>“Tommy!”</p>
<p>The cat scrambled up one of the buildings, and Tommy groaned, standing up and turning to face Wilbur. But there was a hint of panic in his face, and as he called Tommy’s name again, this time he picked up on the urgency in Wilbur’s voice.</p>
<p>“Wilbur?” Tommy asked.</p>
<p>“Tommy, come on!” Wilbur exclaimed, not moving down the path, which Tommy thought was slightly odd. Wouldn’t Wilbur want to come get him?</p>
<p>But he did what Wilbur said, coming back to the main path. Wilbur grabbed his hand tighter than was comfortable, pulling him along.</p>
<p>“We’re going home, I got everything,” he said tightly, but Tommy was fairly sure the urgency was at least partly related to the fact he’d gone down the path toward the cat.</p>
<p>Maybe a cat had made Wilbur sick one time?</p>
<p>Regardless, he allowed Wilbur to pull him back through the woods, not releasing his death grip on Tommy's hand until they were back.</p>
<p>“Can you let go now?” he asked.</p>
<p>Wilbur instantly let go of his hand, dropping the bag of food and going to sit in the corner of their shelter. His knees were pulled up against his chest, and Tommy realized that he was shaking.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“’M fine,” Wilbur muttered, not moving from his position. “Jus’ give me a minute.”</p>
<p>Tommy moved to sit next to Wilbur, wrapping an arm around him in an attempt to comfort him. Wilbur stiffened.</p>
<p>“Let go,” he said tightly, and Tommy immediately moved away.</p>
<p>“I'll get more water,” he offered, backing away. Wilbur didn’t respond.</p>
<p>When he returned a few minutes later, Wilbur was braiding three pieces of twine and appeared in deep concentration.</p>
<p>“You okay?” Tommy asked.</p>
<p>Wilbur nodded. “Just a little shaken,” he said, not looking up.</p>
<p>Tommy went and sat down next to him, leaning his head on Wilbur’s shoulder. He could feel the older boy still shaking slightly, but he relaxed a little bit as Tommy leaned into him.</p>
<p>“I won’ do that again,” Tommy said quietly.</p>
<p>Wilbur smiled tightly.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>//</p>
<p>That night, Tommy dreamed of drowning. One of his least favorite deaths, honestly; second only to the time he got poisoned. He dreamed that he had fallen into a river. And no matter how hard he tried, he never seemed to make any progress toward the surface, but at the same time, the river was only a few feet deep.</p>
<p>Tommy was going to drown in a river that wasn’t even as deep as he was tall.</p>
<p>He woke up coughing, residual panic still seeping through him, and found Wilbur wasn’t in the sleeping bag next to him. Instead, the boy was sitting in a tree across their camp, staring up at the moon.</p>
<p>“Wilbur?” he called softly.</p>
<p>Wilbur startled, looking down at him. “You alright?”</p>
<p>“Dream,” Tommy said, and Wilbur nodded in understanding.</p>
<p>“Me too,” he said, a bitter smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Wanna come up here?”</p>
<p>Tommy nodded, clambering up the tree until he sat perched next to Wilbur in the branches. He leaned his head against the other boy, the silvery moonlight calming.</p>
<p>“You wanna talk about it?” Wilbur asked.</p>
<p>Tommy shook his head. “You?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>They lapsed into silence, then, simply sitting together and watching the sky. It was several minutes before either of them spoke again.</p>
<p>“We’re like brothers,” Tommy said suddenly.</p>
<p>Wilbur opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated.</p>
<p>“Don't say that, I'll cry,” he finally settled on, and Tommy giggled. Wilbur smiled at him, wrapping an arm around Tommy’s shoulders.</p>
<p>They sat up in that tree together until the sun rose.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Rough Spots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i swear i'll update my other story,,, eventually,,,, it's just being difficult and this one isn't skshdjdhdjdhd</p><p>warnings: (impermanent) deaths, vague shutdowns/trauma reactions/that sort of thing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Get down,” Wilbur hissed, and Tommy couldn’t do anything but stand there frozen, trying to figure out what was happening. It was like someone had injected ice into his veins, holding him in place as Wilbur yanked on his hand.</p><p>Wilbur gritted his teeth, looking up at the sky. A helicopter swung lazily over towards them, and Tommy could feel Wilbur’s panic in the way he tugged on his hand, repeating his name and not bothering to be careful.</p><p>Bullets rained down from the helicopter, and Wilbur clutched Tommy to his chest, curling around him protectively as holes peppered the ground around them. Guilt stabbed through Tommy as Wilbur jerked, a screech tearing itself from his throat as blood stained their clothes.</p><p>If he had just <em>moved— </em></p><p>It felt like an eternity and yet no time at all when the helicopter moved on, the sound fading into the distance. Wilbur slowly uncurled from Tommy, three separate bullet wounds on his torso. Blood stained his shirt, covering almost all of the soft blue color in dark reddish brown. Pain was clear on his face as he tried and failed to sit up, falling on the ground with a thump and a sharp cry.</p><p>Tommy clutched at Wilbur's hand, the guilt a heavy, sickening ball in his stomach. It was his fault they hadn't been hiding. It was his fault that Wilbur was lying on the ground, covered in blood and making quiet pained noises.</p><p>“I'm sorry, Wilbur, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Tommy repeated, fighting back tears. It was his fault Wilbur was hurt.</p><p>“’S…’s okay, Tommy,” Wilbur reassured him. “I’ll respawn, ‘n’ I'll be okay, ‘s not your fault Tommy.”</p><p>“It is,” Tommy cried, leaning over his friend. The smell of blood made him choke.</p><p>“I’ve respawned before, it's okay, I'll be okay,” Wilbur told him gently.</p><p>Tommy sobbed, clutching Wilbur’s hand tightly. He didn't let go until after Wilbur stopped breathing.</p><p>//</p><p>It took a good minute for Wilbur to gather his bearings once he woke. His head felt fuzzy from the respawn, and his hands were weak and shaking as he gathered his other set of clothes.</p><p>He needed to get back to Tommy before the helicopter did.</p><p>The journey back was a blur of stumbling from the weakness of respawn and the forest surrounding their camp, but eventually Wilbur burst from the woods to the clear place that they’d been caught in. He could see Tommy, still curled up on the ground next to—he fought back a wave of nausea—Wilbur’s body, rocking himself back and forth and staring off into space.</p><p>Something in Wilbur’s chest twisted painfully, and he wanted nothing more than to get Tommy away from here and leave everything behind. Instead, he fell to his knees in front of Tommy, who twitched and wore an expression of guilt and shame.</p><p>“Oh, Tommy,” he murmured, and he's reaching out without realizing it, pulling the boy against his chest and holding him close, rocking him back and forth in the middle of the bloodstained, bullet-riddled field.</p><p>“I’ve never seen someone die before,” Tommy blurted, clutching at Wilbur’s tattered dark brown jacket. He's shaking. Maybe they both are.</p><p>Wilbur held Tommy close, stroking one hand through his scruffy, dirty, unkempt blond hair. The ferocity of the protectiveness that surges through him scares him.</p><p>“Yeah,” Wilbur murmured, not quite sure what he's confirming. He just continued comforting Tommy, ignoring his bloodstained body not three feet away, ignoring the danger of the situation.</p><p>“It’s my fault!” Tommy burst out, after another minute of this. “It’s my fault you died! You should, I dunno, even the score, something, it's my fault and I should pay for it!”</p><p>Wilbur hesitated. He has no idea how to respond to that, but it's not like he can just let it stand.</p><p>“You’re not to blame,” is what Wilbur settled on eventually, and Tommy twisted around in his arms to <em>thump</em> his head against Wilbur’s shoulder and demand an explanation.</p><p>Wilbur stayed quiet a few extra moments, stroking Tommy’s hair and turning words into sentences in his head.</p><p>“Maybe it was your fault, but I don’t blame you,” he said eventually. “You’re not to blame. It's okay, Tommy.”</p><p>Tommy sobbed again, burying his face in Wilbur’s jacket and clinging tightly to him. If he had as much self-restraint as a normal ten-year-old, he would’ve sighed. But luckily, or maybe unluckily (Wilbur found it hard to tell at this point), he was far from <em>normal. </em></p><p>So instead he picked Tommy up (he was so light, Wilbur resolved to make sure he was getting enough food, he didn't know how much Tommy had to eat before they met but it can’t have been much) and started back towards camp, only pausing to grab the important things from his body (the pouch of scrap, his knife, the things in his pockets, the empty bags he’d brought with him). Tommy shuddered against his chest, clutching his jacket and not making a sound as Wilbur carried him back through the forest.</p><p>By the time they reached their camp, Wilbur was shaking like a leaf from the strain right after a respawn. Tommy was still in a shut-down sort of mode, though, so Wilbur got him the scuffed-up bottle of water and had Tommy hold it in both hands. He just clutched it against his chest, but Wilbur hoped it would be grounding.</p><p>“Mm,” Tommy said, sometime in the next hour. He didn’t say anything after that, but relief spread through Wilbur like sunlight. Good. He hadn’t permanently broken his friend by accidentally dying in front of/for him.</p><p>“You okay?” Wilbur asked him.</p><p>Tommy shrugged, still clutching the water bottle to his chest. He tilted his head back and forth in a so-so kind of way, before letting it rest on Wilbur’s shoulder with a sigh.</p><p>“You wanna know what I do whenever I get stressed out?” he asked Tommy.</p><p>“Mm,” Tommy said. “Yes.”</p><p>Wilbur pulled the piece of twine out of his pocket. Technically it was three pieces, tied together, but it had been like that for so long Wilbur sometimes forgot it hadn’t been given to him like that.</p><p>“I braid stuff,” he answered. “It's a thing to do with my hands, and it needs focus.”</p><p>“’M not good at that,” Tommy mumbled, and Wilbur snorted.</p><p>“Do you know how to braid?”</p><p>Tommy shook his head, still leaning against his shoulder.</p><p>“Do you want me to teach you?”</p><p>After a moment, Tommy nodded, and Wilbur smiled.</p><p>He put the twine in Tommy’s hands, closing his fingers over it so the strands were separated. It was pretty easy to braid twine, but Tommy was several years younger, and Wilbur didn't want to stress him out more.</p><p>“Like this, see?”</p><p>Tommy nodded.</p><p>“Then you do this…”</p><p>Wilbur guided Tommy’s hands so one of the strands crosses over to another. He could feel Tommy’s hands trembling with effort to do it right, so he leans his head on Tommy’s and hopes it’s comforting. When he feels him relax a little, he knows it worked.</p><p>“Like this, to the middle, see?”</p><p>Tommy grinned suddenly, his whole body wiggling with excitement at the achievement. Wilbur laughed, a relieved grin sliding over his face, gently squishing Tommy into his side.</p><p>“Heyyy,” Tommy whined, draping himself over Wilbur and letting the barely-started braid fall apart.</p><p>Wilbur giggled, stroking Tommy’s hair with one hand and putting the twine back in his pocket with the other. Tommy closed his eyes, soaking up the affection like the little grey cat that used to hang around the bandit camp did whenever Wilbur coaxed it close enough to pet.</p><p>Relieved, Wilbur let himself soak up the warmth and comfort of the moment like dry plants given water. Tommy was at his side, safe, happy, unhurt. He himself was unhurt. A joyful grin crossed his face.</p><p>He hadn’t felt like this for a long time.</p><p>//</p><p>It was almost two months later before something else went seriously wrong.</p><p>The plan had just been to scavenge around, track down crates full of supplies, and then go back to their camp. But, Wilbur supposed, he should’ve known it wouldn't go according to plan.</p><p>“It's okay, they’re not gonna find us, we’re small and good at hiding,” Wilbur said quietly, trying to calm Tommy.</p><p>The kid simply clung to Wilbur, shaking, watching the opening they’d come in with wide eyes. The voices of the men searching the dome for loot echoed through the space, and Wilbur held Tommy close and tried to steady his breathing.</p><p>Trapped.</p><p>Wilbur couldn’t bear the feeling of being trapped.</p><p>He watched as one of them slipped, cursing as he landed on a lower level and rubbed at his leg. The gun on his back drew Wilbur’s eyes, and he forced himself to keep holding onto Tommy.</p><p>They were fairly high up, clinging to a support beam behind a sheet of metal. Wilbur had Tommy resting against his chest, supporting his weight and holding them both up by the beam. He’d wedged himself between two pieces of wood, and unless something went horribly wrong, neither would fall.</p><p>“I'm scared,” Tommy whispered. He was trembling. They both were.</p><p>“I’ll keep you safe,” Wilbur whispered back.</p><p>They watched as the men clambered around, jumping gaps and exploring in search of supplies. Wilbur winced as the crate that held the best stuff—excluding things found on top of the dome—was found and looted. No chance of things from that, then.</p><p>He stroked a hand through Tommy’s hair, trying to project calm reassurance as they both watched the men explore the dome. Wilbur couldn't tell which of them was shaking harder.</p><p>The plank juddered as one of them landed heavily on it, following the path back to the outside of the dome. Wilbur’s eyes watched the place where it reentered the dome, waiting for the man to reappear.</p><p>“Damn radiation,” one of them cursed, rubbing at his head. Wilbur and Tommy both twitched, Tommy clinging tighter to him and Wilbur gripping the beam tighter.</p><p>Tommy coughed, sticking his hand in his mouth to stifle the sound, but the damage was done. Both men started scouring the dome for the source of the sound. Guilt flashed across Tommy’s face, and Wilbur rubbed at his shoulder in reassurance.<em> I don't blame you, Tommy.</em> The boy clung tightly to Wilbur’s raggedy brown coat, and Wilbur tucked him into it.</p><p>“Hang on,” he breathed in Tommy’s ear, re-zipping the coat up with Tommy bundled into it. He needed both hands to maneuver, and Tommy wouldn’t be able to reach. Obediently, Tommy wrapped his arms around Wilbur’s chest and held on tight.</p><p>Wilbur stood, grateful for the metal sheet cover, reaching for the railing of a platform. He just barely grabbed it, pulling them both across the gap and onto the rickety platform. Tommy was shaking as he clung to Wilbur, and Wilbur let him out of the coat, sitting on the floor of the platform and waiting for Tommy to readjust to the bright sunlight streaming in from outside.</p><p>“We’re gonna slink down the outside of the dome and make a break for it,” Wilbur murmured. Tommy stared back at him with wide, scared eyes, silent in the gravity of the situation.</p><p>A bitter voice in the back of Wilbur’s head pointed out that neither of them was older than ten, and here they were in danger and unsure if they’d make it home without a death. He ignored it, giving Tommy a reassuring smile.</p><p>It wasn’t until they were halfway down the dome that they are forced to head into the structure. A gaping hole in a rusty pipe meant that way wasn’t an option; the only other was to slink along the inside paths and hope they made it back to the outside.</p><p>Wilbur grabbed Tommy’s hand, guiding him along the edge to the opening. He looked inside, trying to determine if they should go right then or give it another minute.</p><p><em>Now’s as good a time as any,</em> he thought, and led Tommy in.</p><p>Now was not a good time.</p><p>“There!” one of the men shouted, and the other drew his gun and fired at them a few times. Wilbur thought he had missed until Tommy’s hand went slack in his own and he cried out.</p><p>He lunged to catch him, but Tommy slipped off the side and tumbled through the air until he hit the bottom of the dome with a sickening thud.</p><p>Wilbur scrambled down the paths until he reached Tommy. Dully he figured neither of them were a target anymore, but even if they were, Tommy had still been shot and what did it matter if Wilbur was too?</p><p>“Wilbur, I'm scared,” Tommy whimpered, lifting a hand to grab weakly at Wilbur’s own.</p><p>He crouched down next to his friend, stroking Tommy's hair with one hand and holding his hand with the other.</p><p>“Where were you shot?” Wilbur asked, trying to project calm for Tommy to pick up on.</p><p>“Leg, I think,” Tommy whimpered. “It doesn’t—it doesn’t hurt, Wilbur, why doesn't it hurt?”</p><p>Horror flashed through Wilbur, and he struggled to push it down.</p><p>“Can you move your good leg?” he asked.</p><p>After a moment, Tommy shook his head. “Can’t,” he said. He gripped Wilbur’s hand tightly. “’M I gonna die?”</p><p>Wilbur hesitated. “You might,” he said. “But you’ll respawn, and then you’ll be healed, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Tommy breathed. Fear was obvious on his face. “Wilby, don’t—don’t leave me.”</p><p>Something in Wilbur’s chest twisted painfully at the nickname.</p><p>“I won’t,” he said. “I promise.”</p><p>Tommy nodded, shivering. He reached up for Wilbur, and Wilbur moved to lay down next to Tommy, stroking his hair and murmuring to him.</p><p>The men had long left by the time Tommy went still, and Wilbur took a moment to gather himself. He collected Tommy’s things, then carried the body out of the dome and left it in bushes by one of the support pillars.</p><p>He hurried back to their camp after that, and found Tommy just sitting on his sleeping bag. He’d gotten dressed in his other set of clothes, but that was all, and he was just sitting on the sleeping bag, rocking himself back and forth and staring silently off into the distance. His arms were wrapped around himself, and every few moments he dug his nails into his leg as though checking it was still there.</p><p>“Hey, Tommy,” Wilbur said softly.</p><p>“Mm,” Tommy said, not moving. He didn't look up, limbs still pulled tightly against his body.</p><p>“This usual after a death?”</p><p>“Mm-hm,” Tommy answered.</p><p>Wilbur put down Tommy’s things and settled himself next to him. Tommy didn’t react, still staring at the ground and hugging himself.</p><p>After a moment, Wilbur cautiously put an arm around Tommy, ready to pull it back if it made things worse. Instead, tension melted out of his body at the touch, and he pressed himself sideways into Wilbur and leaned his head on Wilbur’s shoulder.</p><p>Neither of them spoke for a very long time.</p><p>“That was horrible,” Tommy whispered eventually.</p><p>“Yeah,” Wilbur agreed softly. “Yeah.”</p><p>He shivered, shifting to cling to Wilbur, who wrapped his arms around Tommy and held him close.</p><p>“Worst death in a while,” he muttered, pressing his head into Wilbur’s collarbone. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but Wilbur didn’t move him away.</p><p>“I bet,” Wilbur murmured back. He let out a tired breath into Tommy’s hair.</p><p>Tommy giggled weakly and leaned into Wilbur, and he wondered how obvious it was that relief was washing through him like a flooded river.</p><p>//</p><p>He woke with a splitting headache, head fuzzy from the dream quickly slipping from his grasp. Some confusing maze of dark, cramped alleyways and Tommy’s screams and grey fog in his head.</p><p>Wilbur shivered and curled into himself, staring up at the sky. The moon was high above them, the thin crescent providing little light. Small mercies.</p><p>A quiet pained sound escaped him, and he bit his lip to avoid waking Tommy. The boy needed rest after the events of earlier that day.</p><p>He carefully crawled out of their shelter and stood to cross their camp, but a wave of dizziness slammed into him and dark green speckles filled the edges of his vision. He hit the ground with a dull thump, and then the green edges of his vision receded.</p><p>Wilbur let out a quiet hiss of pain and carefully stood again, keeping his arms half-spread for stability, digging through his things until he found the scratchy twine strands. He clutched it tightly in his hands before stumbling back across their camp and crawling back into their shelter to press his back up against the corner and pull his knees against his chest.</p><p>He began twisting the strand into a braid, not even looking, fingers trembling slightly on the rough brown twine.</p><p>“Wilbur?” Tommy rasped, and he jumped so badly the twine fell from his hands and he had to scrabble around for it.</p><p>“Tommy?” Wilbur answered, trying to compose himself again.</p><p>“I’m scared,” Tommy said, very softly. He scooted over towards Wilbur, leaning his head on Wilbur’s shoulder.</p><p>“What are you scared about?” Wilbur asked, just as softly. He tucked the twine into his pocket and wrapped a comforting arm around Tommy.</p><p>Tommy shook his head, pressing himself into Wilbur’s side.</p><p>“That's okay,” Wilbur said quietly. He opened his mouth to keep speaking, but didn't get the chance.</p><p>“What if one of us dies and doesn’t respawn,” Tommy burst out, knocking his head into Wilbur’s shoulder.</p><p>Wilbur tried not to wince at the loud noise and the burst of pain it caused in his head.</p><p>“What if you die and then I go back home and <em>you’re not there?</em> What if I die and I don’t ever see you again? What if—”</p><p>Tommy’s words were cut off by choking coughs, and it wasn’t until he pressed his head back against Wilbur’s shoulder that he realized Tommy was crying. This was entirely understandable, and if they were in a different world Wilbur would even have expected it, but for one fact.</p><p>Tommy had never, ever cried in front of Wilbur in the two months they’d known each other. He’d slink off and return with the clear signs of tears on his face, but he never let himself cry when Wilbur was around.</p><p>He held very, very still, trying not to startle Tommy.</p><p>“I won’t leave you, Tommy,” Wilbur said, very quietly. “Ever.”</p><p>“But what if you <em>die?”</em> Tommy cried, and Wilbur twitched at the stab of pain in his head.</p><p>“Then I'll come back,” he said. Steady, calm, as though stating a fact.</p><p>Tommy shuddered, gripping tightly onto Wilbur’s coat. Tears trailed down his cheeks, and he looked more vulnerable than Wilbur had ever seen him.</p><p>“This world sucks,” he muttered into Wilbur’s chest, clinging to him tightly. “I hate it.”</p><p>Wilbur rubbed comforting circles on Tommy’s back.</p><p>“I know,” he said, very softly.</p><p>“Don’ leave me,” Tommy pleaded.</p><p>“I won’t. I promise.”</p>
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